your name on my lips
by paperarrow
Summary: A composition of a girl, a boy, and a love story. We find death in unexpected places. Noah/Mara, AU, OOC-ish, WIP
1. Introduction

_Introduction_

* * *

He first met her in a cemetery, on January the first. No, perhaps met wasn't quite the right word.

The first time he saw her, it was in a cemetery on January the first.

The sound of fireworks still rung in his ears as he walked down the icy path to graveyard, boots tapping against the clear ice painted unevenly upon the salt-stained pavement. The iron wrought gates welcomed him home like a parent would a child, and he felt eight years old again and lost among all the dead souls, rows and rows of what used to be. He took his time, making careful steps through the grass as he read the messages engraved into the tombstone.

He traces the last one gently, feeling the sharp edges of the engraving against the polished granite, cold against his fingers.

_"If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever."_

His lip curled. Because hadn't he loved her as much as a kid could? Loved her too much, even, and now she was buried in a wooden coffin, lowered six feet under the frozen dirt, laid to rot. He pressed his hand against it so hard it drew blood, a viscous red against his pale hand, against the entire white fucking universe.

God, someone up there really hated him.

Offhandedly, he wiped the bead of blood on his jeans, staining a dark maroon into the blue fabric, before shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His shoulders hunched over against the cold, his footsteps heavy.

Snow had started to fall by the time he was within sight of his mother's grave. It was a tall, lonely thing, beautifully ornate, but terribly secluded. Willow trees, wistful in the summer, now guarded it like skeletal soldiers. From where he stood, he could see a bouquet of vermillion leaning against the grey like a beacon. It was brilliantly bright, alive amongst the sea of death. His steps slowed as he approached the gravestone hesitantly. Could it have possibly been–? He dismissed the thought as soon as it had appeared. No, his father hadn't even cared when she was alive, why bother now that she's dead? His fingers reached out to touch the roses, recoiling immediately when it fell apart in his hands, crimson petals against the pristine snow like blood splatters, a painting of the memory that lingered in the shadows of his mind. He sunk to his knees, hands shaking as he tried to lock the nightmare away.

From the sky, a note fluttered to the ground, resting before him.

_I'm sorry. _

He looked up to see a girl, black hair framing a thin face, so pale she looked ethereal, barely there. He blinked, eyelashes sweeping his cheeks, but by the time his eyes opened again, she was gone.


	2. Exposition

_i. Exposition_

* * *

Late January held a bleak disposition impossible to match. Fairy lights hung along townhouse roofs, lying limp and forgotten. Not even the glamour of New York could distract Noah from the black slush that cars splashed against sidewalks, caked upon the soles of his boots as he walked. It was disgusting that as soon as the holidays ended, as did any incentive for fulfilling resolutions of _becoming better people_ and _thinking of others_. Like the radical change in human spirit could only be inspired at Time Square, under the bright lights and loud voices, between the layers of confetti and the feeling of the lips of another against your own.

Noah threaded carefully through the masses of men and women in suits with phones pressed against their ears and shoulders, heels tapping against the pavement in syncopated clicks. With his grey hoodie pulled over his head against the cold, he hurried along, cursing at his poorly timed walk.

"Fuck!"

A body collided into Noah's like a boulder, his head bumping against another head hard. Looking down, he saw a limp shape on the ground, black hair splayed across the faded asphalt like wings in flight. People began to form a circle around them, pausing and looking. Noah even saw a few points and glances thrown his way, whispers about what an awful person he was already circulating between the growing crowds. He ignored them, bending down next to the girl to extend a hand out to her.

Long eyelashes framed dark, almost black, eyes which stared up at him apprehensively, and he's so startled he almost withdraws his hand. She looked like the phantom that haunted both his conscious and unconscious mind, the shadow that wouldn't erase no matter how much he doused himself in shores in reality. He saw her in every face in crowd, behind every door, amongst his demons and his angels, his mysterious girl. It was surreal to see the face in his dreams so close he could reach out and touch her.

Slowly, the girl pushed her body up to sitting position, wincing as she felt the wounds and bruises of her battered body. Noah thought he saw blood on her palms, but she covered her hands with the sleeves of her sweater, pulling at the already stretched fabric before he could got a good look. She looked at his open hand in apprehension, but reached for it nonetheless, the soft fabric of her sleeve against the skin of his hand. With a firm grip, he pulled her up to standing position, where she sways upon weak knees.

"Sorry," she whispers when Noah feels the weight of her slight body leaned against his.

"No problem." Noah's lips twitch into a slight smile. "I did kind of bump into you and all."

The girl laughs despite herself, a sweet, lopsided smile upon her pale face, and Noah finds that he's already cataloguing the imperfections in the smile, adding them to the list that made his heart beat faster.

"Do you want to, you know," Noah scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Grab a coffee with me or something?"

When the crowd around them starts catwhistle, he remembers that they are not alone but in the middle of a busy sidewalk, with dozens of people watching their every move, and he almost regrets asking the question when he did. The girl lowers her head shyly, fiddling with the frayed edges of her sleeves.

"You don't have to–" He says quickly, because it was clearly a mistake to ask her, jesus christ, he did even know her_ name_, but–

"Yes." She lifts her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Noah's head jerks up. "Yes, yes I will."

Noah feels a grin spreading across his face. He probably looked like an idiot but it was hard to care. Finally, the Gods are smiling upon him.


	3. Development

**Hi guys! Sorry for the wait. I'm having a bit of trouble with this fic atm, and I admit I've kind of been putting it off for a while.. oops. I'm also sorry that the "chapters" are so short, if you can even call them that. This was originally intended to be a 5 part piece published all at once, except I didn't/don't have it finished, so I decided to post them as I write them. This means the remaining sections/chapters will continuing to be about 500-1000 words.**

**Rest assured, this ****_will get finished! _****I'm just trying to pick up the motivation to write this.**

* * *

_ii. Development_

* * *

Her name was Mara, and she liked quiet spaces and tea in the mornings. Her shampoo smelt of lavender and she had a smile he could wake up to every day and still would not get tired of.

Noah could count on one hand the times he had truly felt happy in his life. His dad was rarely home, and distant even when he did, his impassive air a damper on the energy in any room. His mother, on the other hand, had the capability to love everything, especially the broken, shattered things. But she died too soon, and left Noah all alone in an empty world, fighting a worthless war.

Mara was, in many ways, very different from his mother. She was introverted, for one. She didn't talk often, almost as if she wasn't used to having someone listen. Still, Noah couldn't help but see their similarities, to see the raw strength in Mara that held within those frail limbs, the steel behind her dark eyes that could not be shaken.

They sit on a bench in Central Park on Sunday, knees bumping, shoulders touching, a moment that felt more intimate than anything. This place has grown to become Noah's favourite place in the world, because it was Mara's. She admired it during all it's seasons; loved the sheets of white snow that sprinkled down like fairy dust when tapped in the winter, and the pink blossoms that bloomed upon surfaces that lay stagnant for months during spring. It was a cycle of life and death, and in a secluded area deep in the park, they were it's sole observers. Noah looks at Mara as she stared up at the newly green leaves that cast blurred shadows by their feet. She did not squint despite the sun in her eyes, and Noah took the time to memorize the delicate curve where her chin met her neck, the swoop of her nose, the pale nude of her lips. She looked like a porcelain doll, still in the wind, and Noah reached his hand out and placed it over her's, almost as if to reassure himself she was real. Mara stiffened under his touch, the muscles in her hands tensing. Her skin was cold to touch, and he wondered why she didn't wear more than the shirt she had on, the warm weather still waking from it's winter slumber.

"Are you cold?" Noah asks, already shrugging his jacket off to drape over her shoulders

Mara looked over at him, then touches the jacket in surprise. Her body relaxes, and she turns her hand over so their palms touch, a healthy blush painted upon her china cheeks.

"How chivalrous," She replies drily, but the faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth betrayed her. She looked so lovely, dark locks blowing in the late spring breeze, indulgent smile brightened by the only blush he had ever seen her wear. Noah leans in slowly until he's so close he can count the number of eyelashes, so thick it was like counting stars in the sky.

"I'm going to kiss you." Noah whispers, and before she can react, he presses his lips against hers.

The first kiss is supposed to be fumbling hands, bruising lips, knocking teeth; beautiful in it's imperfection, but this kiss shattered all expectations. The sound of their gentle breathing mingled with the rustling of tree branches and the flutter of bird feathers in the distance, the soft feel of their lips together, foreign yet familiar; it was a study in the beauty of simplicity. It was exhilarating and soul consuming, and he felt like his breath had left him suddenly, chased away by the warm feeling that it spread from his chest.

Against him, he felt the rise and fall of Mara's chest as she breathed, heavy and erratic and so human. His fingers curled into the soft, splintered wood of the bench, memorizing the grains against his hand.

They broke apart when a hacking cough forced it's way through Noah's throat. His hands flew up to cover his mouth as he doubled over, awful contractions wracking through his body like relentless tides. It felt like he had coughed up a lung, while the other hung loose and withered inside his chest cavity.

"Noah?" Mara's face peered up at his, eyes wide in alarm. "Are you alright?" She reached a hand out to touch his cheek gently, brushing against the hint of stubble.

Her hand was warm, he thought with a start, before another wave of coughs passed through him. Mara withdrew her hand immediately, cradling it against her chest, and Noah felt awful for making her jump.

"Maybe you've gotten yourself sick," Mara says, the niche between her eyebrows crinkled, tone worried. "You shouldn't have given your jacket to me."

"What, and leave you to freeze? What kind of guy would that make me?" He jokes, watching as Mara's expression closes, then smooths out.

"A sensible one," she replies. She flashes him a smile, then moves to take the jacket off.

"No, no, don't–" Noah protests quickly, reaching out to keep the jacket in place. His hand lands on hers, covering her small, dainty one completely, and he marvels at how well they contrasted. Abruptly, a cough rises up his windpipe again, and the force of it causes him to double over, releasing Mara's hand in the process. Noah vaguely registered Mara's movements as she draped his jacket back over his shoulders.

"This was fun. Thank you, Noah." She whispers softly into his ear. "Take care of yourself, alright?" She departs with a faint smile on her lips, and an adorable wink.

Her words were a promise, but Noah can't help thinking they sounded more like a goodbye.


End file.
